


cabur

by MageOfCole



Series: Cole Does Whumptober 2020 [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Background Jango Fett/Myles the Mandalorian, Child Obi-Wan Kenobi, Gen, Hurt Jango Fett, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mandalorian Culture, Mandalorian Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mando'a, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Protective Jango Fett, Self-Hatred, Slavery, Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020, caged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26804752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MageOfCole/pseuds/MageOfCole
Summary: (guardian)Jango doesn’t bother looking up from his huddle in the corner of his too-small cage when he hears the masters walking down the rows, considering whether or not to let the fog drag him under again. The yelp of a child chases it all away.(No.4 - Running Out Of Time)
Relationships: Jango Fett & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Cole Does Whumptober 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949908
Comments: 130
Kudos: 912





	cabur

Jango doesn't know how long he’s been caged.

It could have been days, it could have been months - hells, it could have been _years_. Jango can’t tell with his mind fogged by spice and agony. His body aches, and Jango is pretty sure his hands have permanently curled into claws from the never ending physical labour, and his back has been flayed by the beatings. He’s spent his days since - since _Galidraan_ \- wallowing in a drug-filled haze of never-ending monotony interspersed with violent whippings, and any moment the drugs fade enough for Jango to _think_ , to _remember_ , he almost chokes on his own burning hatred when it claws its way back up to the surface.

It makes him _want_ the haze of drugs. He welcomes it, because it drowns out the grief, the guilt, the memories, and his overwhelming hatred of everything and everyone - including himself.

He’s a failure, a coward - if he had been a better Mand’alor, his people wouldn’t have died, or he would have done them the honour of dying with them. He’s no longer Mando’ad. He has no armour, it had been stolen from him and was probably being used as some shiny trophy for that _aruetyc shabuir_ of a Governor. He has no defense, it’s been taken from him by the collar around his neck and the brand burned into his chest - he’s a slave now, and slaves can’t defend themselves. His tribe is gone, slaughtered on Galidraan and dismembered by those _skanah jetiise_ , their bodies probably left to rot with no one to complete their final rites and thus no way to join the manda. He has no reason to speak the language, because slaves aren’t permitted to speak, and he’d have no one to share it with anyways. And as for his leader?

Well, Jango had failed spectacularly as Mand’alor. He had gotten his people - _Jaster’s people_ \- killed, his failure had destroyed the _Haat Mando’ade_. He had destroyed Jaster’s legacy.

He had failed his people, he had failed himself, and he had failed his Buir. He should have died that day with his parents, he should have burned with their farmhouse. Maybe if he had, Jaster would have saved Arla as soon as he heard her screaming if he hadn’t been weighed down by Jango - he has no doubt Jaster could have pulled her out of the flames if he hadn’t been honour-bound to protect Jango.

None of this would have happened if Jango had died then. But he hadn’t, and now everything and had known and loved was gone - and it was his fault.

Jango doesn’t bother looking up from his huddle in the corner of his too-small cage when he hears the masters walking down the rows. He barely acknowledges their voices. Instead, he stays where he is, considering whether or not to let the fog drag him under again.

A yelp has him jerking.

It was the pained cry of a child - an _ad_ \- and it has Jango beating back the numbness of the spice and lifting his head.

The large Twi’lek overseer had stopped in front of Jango’s cage, his meaty hand curled solidly around a chain leading to the collar around the small, pale throat of a Human or Near-Human child with fluffy ginger hair and glazed blue eyes.

“You sure about that, Tol?” The Zeltron at the overseer’s side asks, red eyes lingering on Jango’s huddled form. “Y’know what they say about Mandos-”

The Twi’lek snorts, moving to unclasp the gate to Jango’s cage. “Good thing we ain’t got no Mandos here then. Only _slaves_ . This one was good and broken before we got it.” The overseer sneers, and with a jerk of the Twi’lek’s hand, the scared _ad_ stumbles toward him.

Jango twitches as those cruel fingers lock around the child’s delicate neck, and the _adiik_ flinches. He must not be as far under the thrall of the spice if he could still react like that, and Jango twitches again against the desire to throw himself forward to defend the tiny _adiik_.

“Be good now, slave.” The overseer coos mockingly, unhooking the chain from the explosive rigged to the small child’s neck. “We paid some good creds for you - I’d hate to be the one telling Lord du Crion that we had to blow you up.”

The child stares back, fire sparking in those foggy eyes, then they make a pained noise when the overseer gives them a violent shake. The _adiik_ ’s head ducks submissively as the Twi’lek sneers at them.

“There’s a good lad.” The Zeltron says in a parody of motherly concern, voice sickly sweet as she toys with the ends of the _ad_ ’s red hair. “That brother of yours wanted us to keep you in one piece until you learned your lesson.”

“He’s not my brother -” The _adiik_ ’s retort is cut off by a cry of pain that has Jango gritting his teeth in fury, carefully uncoiling himself from the tight ball he had been curled into before. The kid hits the floor of his cage with a bone-jarring thud, and Jango rolls stiffly to his knees as the slave masters laugh.

“That’s your final warning, slave.” The Twi’lek sneers, looking down his nose at the two slaves as he shuts the cage once more. “You talk back to me again and I’ll whip you ‘til you bleed.”

Jango glowers at the two slavers thunderously from under his shaggy hair as the march away, and the _ad_ barely stirs from his sprawl. He grits his teeth, holding his tongue until the overseers are out of sight, before he’s shuffling forwards, towards the limp child that had unexpectedly become his companion.

“ _Me’vaar ti gar_?” He calls softly to the _adiik_ , who flinches, scrambling clumsily onto his hands and knees to stare up at Jango with a wide-eyed glare. He’s scared, Jango can tell immediately, but there’s still a fire burning inside of him that almost has Jango smiling.

He’s definitely _Mandokarla_ , and just looking at him makes Jango ache for home. If they weren’t in this cage - if they were back on _Manda’yaim_ \- Jango has no doubt that someone would be snatching this _adiik_ up and adopting him into their _aliit_ . It makes him think of Myles, of the last thing his _cyare_ had said to him before they had rushed into battle - about how he wanted to raise warriors with him - and _Ka’ra_ does it _hurt_. He tries not to think about the way Myles’ body had been split in half. They would have said their vows after Galidraan had this been a kinder galaxy.

Carefully, Jango sits back on his heels, lifting his hands to show the kid that he means no harm. He probably looks frightening to the already scared _adiik_ , with his unwashed hair and ungroomed beard - not to mention the thick layer of dirt, spice, and blood that covered his face. “ _Udesii_ , _ad’ika_.” He soothes, and the little Lothcat just bares his teeth at him, as threatening as a kitten - and the thought almost makes Jango snort.

 _Well_ , if there was any way to calm a feral kitten.

He glances around, then carefully choreography his movements as he pulls his half-eaten gruel towards them, then pushes it at the _adiik_. “ _Haili cetare_ , _verd’ika_.” He offers, and the kid eyes him suspiciously for a long moment before he reaches forward to tug the bowl closer. The kid hesitates, eyes darting from the bowl, to Jango, then skittering around the cage, and Jango raises his eyebrows in a silent question.

“Is -” The adiik’s voice is rough from spice-inhalation, but Jango can just pick up the refined High Core accent he spoke with - not surprising if was was apparently the brother of a Lord, and doesn’t that knowledge piss Jango off further.

What kind of _dar’vod hut’uun_ sell their own _vod’ika_ into slavery?

The _ad_ flinches, ducking his head, and Jango curses himself, carefully schooling his face into the political mask Jaster had drilled into his thick head.

“ _Udesii_.” Jango says again, and the child steadily relaxes again. “ _Copaani gaan_?” He probes, a little teasingly and hoping to put the kid more at ease.

The _adiik_ bites his lip, looking up at Jango from under dark lashes. “Are there utensils?” He asks in a rush, before he blushes and ducks his head shyly.

 _Utensils_ \- Jango snorts. The kid really was some fancy Core lordling.

“ _Nayc_ , _ad’ika_.” He shakes his head, and the kid deflates, looking at the bowl in his dirty hands in dismay. The _adiik_ hesitates a moment longer, before sighing quietly and beginning to use his fingers to scoop the unappetizing mush into his mouth. Jango only watches fondly for a moment, studying the kid; he had obviously been well-fed and well-cared for before his _dar’vod_ had sold him. He’s lanky in the way kids get on the cusp of puberty, and his hair is a rare red-gold that actually makes Jango glad that the _adiik_ had been sold to a spice rig instead of to someone with a taste for the exotic. He might even have some biological resistance to toxins, from the way the _adiik_ grows sharper and more alert with every moment that passes.

He wonders if anyone would be missing this kid.

Well, they should have kept a better eye on him, obviously.

“ _Tion’ad_ _hukaat’kama_ , _adiik_?” Jango asks, watching the kid lick the bowl clean, and big doe eyes blink back at him, confused. “ _Tion_ _gar gai_?”

The _adiik_ blinks again, carefully rubbing his mouth with the filthy sleeve of his stained tunic as his brows furrow. “I’m sorry -” he says slowly, “- do you speak Basic? I don’t understand you.”

Jango blinks right back, a little taken aback - it had been so long since he had spoken to _anyone_. He hadn’t even realized that his mouth was forming the vowels of his mother tongue. “I -” Basic feels odd on his tongue, but the kid brightens, so Jango will put up with it until he can teach him Mando’a, “- yeah. I speak Basic.”

The kid beams at him and - _haar’chak_ \- he has dimples. He would have _definitely_ been adopted in a heartbeat.

“Was wondering your name.” Jango grunts, and the _verd’ika_ ’s smile turns shy.

“I’m Obi-Wan.” The kid introduces himself with a little bow that wouldn’t be out of place in a High Core court. “And yourself?” He asks, eyes curious.

“Jango.” He offers gruffly, “Jango Fett.”

Obi-Wan beams at him again, and - kriff, how could _anyone_ sell this kid into slavery. He was too trusting, too innocent - this life would ruin him. “It’s nice to meet you, Master Fett!”

Jango jerks, scowls, and the kid flinches faintly, looking alarmed and confused, so Jango lets out an explosive sigh and forces himself to relax. “Not your master, Ob’ika.” Jango mutters, gesturing for the kid to come closer. Space gets cold, and the _adiik_ would no doubt be feeling it soon. “Just Jango.”

“Okay.” Obi-Wan agrees quietly, shuffling over to the man’s side, and Jango slowly loops an arm around the _ad_ ’s thin shoulders and pulling him even closer, tucking him against his ribs. “How long have you been here, Jango?” The kid asks, curling his fingers into Jango’s ruined _kute_ , and Jango just shrugs awkwardly. There’s a small sniffle in response, as it fully begins to sink in that his _dar’vod_ really had sold him into slavery no doubt.

Jango tightens his hold on the adiik, and in that moment he swears to himself, to the manda, that he’d get out. He’d get them both out.

**Author's Note:**

> aruetyc - "traitorous"  
> shabuir - extreme insult  
> skanah jetiise - "much hated Jedi"  
> ad - "kid"  
> adiik - "child between 3-13"  
> Me’vaar ti gar? - "How are you?"  
> Mandokarla - "the right stuff"  
> aliit - "family/clan"  
> cyare - "beloved"  
> Udesii - "calm down"  
> Haili cetare - "tuck in (lit. fill your boots)"  
> verd'ika - "little soldier"  
> ad'ika - "little one"  
> dar'vod - "no longer a brother"  
> hut'uun - "coward"  
> vod'ika - "little brother"  
> Copaani gaan? - "need a hand?"  
> Nayc - "no"  
> Tion’ad hukaat’kama - "who's watching your back?" (used in the context of "got anyone looking out for you?" or "got a family?")  
> Tion gar gai? - "what's your name?"  
> haar’chak - "damn it"  
> kute - "bodysuit"


End file.
